i’m sometimes a bit OK

Kriváň in haze
i think today i
worked hard and played hard

and i kept my cool for the most part too
i spent not too long thinking of you i
stuck to my plans all the way through and i
found and find solace in excelling in what i do

i’m a good student and my teachers like me or at least i think they do
or at least i think some of them do

adequacies i urge myself to savour

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i saw one g7y on youtube use a bunch of double cream but i don’t fuck with/like that

Séguin,_Armand_-_Two_Thatched_Cottages_(Les_deux_chaumières)_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg
pic totally unrelated
the first time i saw this i knew i wanted to use it for a poem
and who knows when i’ll write my next poem, right?/1/1/1!!?!?!?!?

last few hey-ho
ups n downs n wasted time
let jealousy get the better of me it
sits me down and keeps me sat
indefinitely indubitably i should review
what i currently consider priorities

italian food en masse
excuse my french but this pot bellies worth it
for the pasta pon pasta yeah
some kids’ take on
flavours and recipes passed down through generations
globalised commodified commercialised n
fetishised but i like to think i treat italian food with
some degree of respect
except when i do the funny accent /that’s not cool

maybe i should turn this into some kind of food blog
gods know; the rich ingredients
that once constituted the vast seemingly
endless simmering sauce that was my poetry
have run dry /their
excitable saucier in the sky jaded

so without further ado i’d like to like to talk you through
~my recipe instructions~
~for a slimy carbonara~
that’ll mentally take you to the italian riviera
and didnt’cha know that mediterranean people live-a for long’a (sorry)
serves:1 (because if you are anything like me
you are alone and largely miserable)

you need
spaghett of some kind
bacon or panchetta
few eggs n some parmasan
butter or olive oil but ideally both my friends
black pepper and garlic please
optional parsley /mushrooms n
cherry-boy tomatoes
maybe some rocket i guess

prep first if you don’t chop good
otherwise boil spaghett right the heck now (this evening i will
be using linguine)

PREP:
chop bacon
panchetta if you’re feelin bougie
the egg sauce (SEE: the egg sauce)

OK now chuck a wad o butter in a pan n watch it melt
huff it and be rallied/hurry crush a couple cloves
(of garlic) chuck em in n take a moment
to savour the fragrance
no time/ throw in the bacon
let it brown stir it round & for the ‘optional’ few
add mushrooms around now
cherry-boys whenever you want depending on your preference

timing timing timing timing
i’m not a youtube video or a cookbook
i’m a poem that is potentially
primarily written to inform
(make the egg sauce around now (SEE: the egg sauce))

go ahead and scoop out them cloves asshole
your pasta should be ready around now
so drain it and throw it in the bacon pan
toss it maybe put in a little pasta water
turn the hob off

extremely high level stuff.
the egg sauce:::
couple egg yolks n grated parmasan
or pecorino according to elitist fatboy jamie oliver
and his padrone puppetmasters
yeah beat and whisk that cheese on sight n
pour the sauce on over your pasta
and let me tell you
the warmth of the pasta alone will
get the eggs to where they need to be (AN AMAZING SCIENTIFIC FACT)
mark my words

i swear to you
on my youth and my admittedly
shredded tattered dignity
that sauce and your bacon grease will be complicit in creating
what is commonly regarded as a carbonara sauce, my friends

pepper parsley pepper more
i love a peppery carbonara me and
i’m sure you will too
with mushies and cherry-boys optional /toss it all
linguin-e ideall-y
serve it up/ grate more cheese whatever

and there you, as they say, have it
by far the tastiest poem i’ve ever written
and relatively, by a far smaller margin the healthiest********
potentially the most informative
potentially the least poetic

************except for that one about nuts and dried fruits

i’m an only child and i think it shows

at least i’m writing again
mostly whining and wallowing
and wailing in wanting i
want to be wanted
and in absence of wanted i go from
worthless to jealous to paranoid to angry to
worthless to worthless to writing

“SAY GRACE” (INFINITY)

FUKIN BRUD.jpg
pic again somewhat related
i believe it necessary to mention that i know virtually nothing about birds
please enjoy this deranged and clumsily crudely told poem. thank you



picked apart by birds of prey
or scavenger birds or
bird mentality

not penguins but like
*fuckin birds* yeah
talons descending
squawking pecking they
go for the eye they
tear through your cheeks and
have at your innards *fuck* *swoop*
known to take babies /vom in their babies
laying eggs n i’m sorry but

i’m not birdist but birds i don’t get you
or at least like

i wouldn’t fit in with the fleet or the flock
in formation or otherwise – yeah i’d be
the furthest from the birdest yeah birds like..
you’re raptors
n i’m that kid hiding in the kitchen in j-park

except i’m ready to stab you in the foot with a kitchen knife
yeah carnivore style with opposable thumbs, birds!
n on land n inside there’s no room to fly, birds!
on ground n under where humans gut birds, *fuck*, birds!
we roast you
yeah *you’re good* with all sorts yeah we take the eggs you lay n
fry n roast n cage en masse *well fuck* we grow and drug you birds
vom /it’s fucked /it’s lean protein
it’s omnivore style with opposable thumbs
n free will n greed /again mouths to feed
*all sorts* there’s *all sorts* what am i doing
birds and humans tonnes of difference /whats the difference

food chain hungry /in our case
*greedy* (ask birds if they’re greedy)

food chain hungry birds’ll birds’ll
take and fly they’ll fuckin /birds’ll
dive n snatch n soar away the *fuckin birds* they
claw at me and scream at me with eyes bea-dy
n beaks n i deserve it /”wet my
beak” yeah i deserve it
ambition /yeah that *payout* yeah that
hot meal
for me n mine yeah when i die
(if i remember)
maybe i’ll die near some scavenger birds y’know
give back a bit
redemption and forgiveness
altruism with opposable thumbs, yeah n
ask birds if they have altruistic tendencies

and regardless of their answer (if you get one(?))
scatter my remains along the plains they hunt
*squawk* n i get to get vommed /food chain

a poem to redeem today

Horizon
honestly
moaning gets me nowhere lyrically
except for sometimes but even then
only retrospectively

and moaning lyrically never tends to get
me anywhere else mentally
instead accentuates this plight of me
instead perpetuates this fright in me this
dread of me dead bored of me i self indulge
masochistically
seemingly

today

fancy that, what a day

bunch of reading /just now some bleeding
for lunch i had a pasta dish of which i’ve never heard of and
for dinner i had junk food on a whim and with some milkshake and
i found you and i kissed you in the pub and in your kitchen
over tea and over sheets and in your room and on your back
and on your arms /i smelt your hair and touched your hands and
cuddled you, you cradled me you told me how you’re jaded by
remarks on your good looks so i would say
so i would list if i could list if i could
just if i could say

you’re virtuous you’re truly good you’re whole and you are pure
attentive and perceptive yes attractive you’re romantic
you are special and i tell you so let’s hope that doesn’t jade you

and this is the first poem i’ve ever written about you so thanks for reading i guess